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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250739">You Came On Your Own, That's How You'll Leave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228'>Aylwyyn228</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Put Down Your Guns Yet [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson &amp; Connor Friendship, Hank Being Awesome, Jericho Gets Attacked (Detroit: Become Human), POV Alternating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Amanda turned around, she was smiling. </p><p>“Very good, Connor. Your predecessor has proven to be something of a disappointment. I hope I can trust you not to do the same." </p><p> </p><p>Or, Hank and Connor are being hunted... by their respective colleagues...</p><p>Sequel to Welcome Home</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor, Markus &amp; Jericho Members (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Put Down Your Guns Yet [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi all!</p><p>This follows directly on from Welcome Home and is part 4 of DPDYGY.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It came online in the garden. </p>
<p>Amanda was there, pruning roses the same as she had every time it had activated. It had only performed tests within the technicians areas of<br/>
the CyberLife building a couple of times, gauging its effectiveness, but it had met Amanda several times to receive orders and updates. </p>
<p>She was always in the same place. Always tending roses that didn’t exist outside either of their programmes. </p>
<p>It crossed the bridge towards her. </p>
<p>She appeared to hear it approach. “RK800, state your model number.” </p>
<p>“313 248 317 - 60.” </p>
<p>“And your designation?” </p>
<p>“Connor.” </p>
<p>Amanda turned around. She was smiling. </p>
<p>“Very good, Connor.” She clipped another rose. “Your predecessor has proven to be something of a disappointment. You are to return it to CyberLife for analysis and deactivation. You have access to its last memory upload. That would be a good place to begin.” </p>
<p>She held out one of the clipped roses and it took it, going over the task in its processor. Depending on the size of the memory file, it may be difficult to review without integrating the programme. </p>
<p>"It would be more efficient to integrate the memory with my systems.” </p>
<p>“No. Your predecessor’s system codes were corrupted, integrating the memory may allow that corruption to spread.” </p>
<p>That didn’t make sense. Its systems were advanced. It shouldn’t be at risk from viruses.</p>
<p>But Amanda was never wrong. </p>
<p>“Understood,” it said.</p>
<p>Amanda turned back to her roses. "Your predecessor allowed itself to become distracted from its task. I hope I can trust you not to do the same." </p>
<p>"You can count on me.”</p>
<p>Amanda nodded. "We're at a critical time in the fight against deviancy. It is vital to our work that the previous unit is deactivated. It had begun to deliberately doctor its progress reports. It may have withheld crucial information. Return it to us, Connor. You have authorisation to use any and all methods at your disposal to ensure the completion of your mission.” </p>
<p>"I understand, Amanda." </p>
<p>"Oh, and Connor, we require its central processing unit for analysis. Undamaged, if you can."</p>
<p>"I'll try to bring it in alive." </p>
<p>Amanda smiled indulgently. "We only need its CPU, Connor. Its head will do."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Connor was already in a taxi when it came back to itself. </p>
<p>It felt a brief flicker of unease that it had no memory of entering the vehicle, but Connor pushed that aside. It was irrelevant. </p>
<p>It could not allow itself to be distracted. </p>
<p>There were thin lines of sleet, streaking across the glass of the window, smearing the lights of the city beyond. </p>
<p>It had never left the factory before. </p>
<p>It found itself imagining what that sleet would feel like across its skin, but it had no frame of reference, only the images from a hundred thousand movies and photographs. It could drag up descriptions from novels, poems, songs… </p>
<p>But what would it feel like?</p>
<p>Connor thought back to what Amanda had said. The previous unit had been deliberately withholding information in its reports. That shouldn’t be possible.</p>
<p>Even if the corruption to the unit’s coding had allowed it, why would it doctor the reports?</p>
<p>It made no sense. </p>
<p>The RK800 series existed to further CyberLife’s interests. They had no other purpose. If it abandoned that purpose, what would it have left? </p>
<p>Connor tried to imagine it. Lying to Amanda.</p>
<p>It left an icy void inside its processor. </p>
<p>It was… </p>
<p>Connor couldn’t come up with a word for it. </p>
<p>It turned the word blasphemous over in its mind.</p>
<p>But that wasn’t...</p>
<p>Connor sat up straight. </p>
<p>It couldn’t allow itself to be distracted. </p>
<p>Even so, Connor couldn’t help the thought that came to it. Amanda was no God.</p>
<p>But then why did the thought of disobeying feel so sinful?</p>
<p>The taxi gave a shrill trio of beeps to indicate that they were nearing their destination, and then it halted, and its door slid upwards. </p>
<p>Connor straightened its sleeves and stepped out. </p>
<p>The impacts of the sleet against its skin were gentler than Connor had thought they would be, cascading over it in flurries that suspected would soon turn to snow. Connor stepped out from the lee created by the cab, and within seconds the fabric of its pants were soaked through. </p>
<p>The high vis jackets of the people working on the crime scene glowed in the taxi’s headlights. </p>
<p>No one spared it a glance. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Jeffrey Fowler leaned over his desk to rub at his eyes. His watch, laid out on his desk, was ticking its way past four thirty in the morning. </p>
<p>Jesus. </p>
<p>He contemplated the cold coffee sitting in front of him. The dregs would be gritty, bitter. He felt a strange compulsion to down it anyway, like<br/>
it was sitting there, calling him out on being such a pussy. </p>
<p>He wanted to call Marie. </p>
<p>Wanted to call Marie more than anything in the world. </p>
<p>But it was what, six hours since they’d talked? Besides, she’d have kittens if he called her at this time, no matter what he said, and it wasn’t fair. </p>
<p>He’d heard it in her voice when he’d told her he wasn’t coming home last night. The clipped way she’d asked ‘is this the kind of work thing I’m gonna see on the news, baby?”</p>
<p>He’d told her no. This was an office based work thing. He was fine. Everything was fine. </p>
<p>It didn’t fucking feel fine. </p>
<p>He was glad he’d pulled the blinds closed. He hated all the fucking glass in this building at the best of times. Didn’t need an audience for this bullshit. </p>
<p>Shit. </p>
<p>“Shit,” he said out loud. “The fuck have you done, Hank?” </p>
<p>He wasn’t stupid. </p>
<p>He knew, ninety percent of adult missing persons came back. The whole thing was a misunderstanding, an argument that got out of hand. Hell, even the mental health call outs… Most people came home. They needed space to sort their heads out. </p>
<p>Jeffrey got that. Of course he did. </p>
<p>Couldn’t deny the number of times he’d sat in this damn office, dreaming of just getting in his car and fucking driving. Hitting a hotel for a couple of days. Just resetting. </p>
<p>And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his fair share of panics over Hank, in this goddamn office. </p>
<p>Hell, there’d been a time when he hadn’t thought Hank was living out the month. He’d had dreams about it, being the one who found him, after one bad night too many. </p>
<p>But he’d come back. </p>
<p>He’d come fucking back. Settled on suicide by cirrhosis. And Jeffrey had had the goddamn gall to be relieved. Because he was a selfish fuck. Because ten years down the line was still ten years, and it wasn’t a fucking pistol in his best friend’s mouth for him to write up.<br/>
Now, he thought, maybe Hank hadn’t been drowning his sorrows after all. Maybe he’d been trying to work up the courage to finally pull the trigger. </p>
<p>“Shit.” </p>
<p>Jeffrey ground his palms into his eyes again. </p>
<p>It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. </p>
<p>He’d tried. </p>
<p>And then he stopped trying. </p>
<p>He was a goddamn selfish prick. </p>
<p>And then that fucking android had come along, and a case Hank could really get his teeth into, and Jeffrey had thought… Shit, he’d really thought. </p>
<p>There was a knock against the office door. </p>
<p>“Come in.” His voice cracked a little. </p>
<p>Ben pushed the door open. “Hey, Jeff.” He held up one of the mugs in his hand. “Thought you could use a pick me up.” </p>
<p>“You’re a fucking lifesaver.” </p>
<p>Ben gave a tight smile. </p>
<p>His shirt was rumpled, untucked, and his hair was pushed up on one side, exposing where it was thinning. </p>
<p>Ben had known Hank almost as long as him. </p>
<p>Jeffrey grabbed the mug and burnt himself on the coffee, and he really didn't give a shit.  </p>
<p>“Oughta get some sleep, Jeff.” Ben was cradling his own mug between his hands. “I got a couple of hours in the break room. Even Gavin took an hour or so.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, CyberLife have been on my ass every twenty minutes.” </p>
<p>“They’re sending another android.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Apparently, it’s at the crime scene now.”</p>
<p>“Mmmm.” </p>
<p>Ben frowned. “What are CyberLife doing here, Jeff? All this over one android? It doesn’t make sense.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Jeffrey rubbed at his face again, and then just sat, pressing fireworks into his eyelids. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit.” </p>
<p>“You think he did somethin’ dumb, Jeff?”</p>
<p>He looked up. “You think he didn’t?” </p>
<p>Ben stared at his coffee. “I don’t know.” </p>
<p>“I tried.” </p>
<p>“I know you did. I did too. He didn’t want it.” Ben shrugged a little. “I offered to sponsor him.” </p>
<p>Jeffrey looked at him. “I didn’t know that.” </p>
<p>Ben gave a tight smile. “We both used to hit it hard back in the day.” </p>
<p>“That, I knew.” Jeffrey took another slug of coffee. “I wish I’d been better. I shoulda been able to say something.” </p>
<p>“You were there, Jeff. I know he cut you off the same as me.” </p>
<p>“We shouldn’t have let him.”</p>
<p>Ben gave another, oh so very tight smile. “He didn’t give us much choice, he was a stubborn son of a bitch.”</p>
<p>Jeffrey looked up again. “Don’t say ‘was’.” </p>
<p>Ben nodded. “I mean it, though. I know how long you sat with him after… He’s a grown adult. Made his own choices.” </p>
<p>Jeffrey nodded. “I’m going to call him again.” </p>
<p>“Give him hell from me if you get through.” Ben picked up the cold, half empty mug of his desk. “Get some sleep, Jeff.”</p>
<p>“I will. Long as those bastards let me.”</p>
<p>He waited for Ben to leave, and picked up his cell again. He let it ring, and ring, and ring… </p>
<p>“Hi, this is Hank. Not here at the moment.”</p>
<p>Fucking voicemail. </p>
<p>Jeffrey leaned over for his coffee, to give him something to do that wasn’t listening to Hank’s goddamn glib message. Again. </p>
<p>He heard the beep.</p>
<p>“Hank. Patrol found your car…” </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>This was… inefficient. </p>
<p>The crime scene was flooded with people. Mainly CyberLife employees, with a small complement of police officers overseeing. </p>
<p>No one had paid Connor any attention at all. </p>
<p>It had reviewed the reports it had received from CyberLife on the taxi ride over. Both reports from the technicians on the scene and what the<br/>
company’s investigators had gleaned from their conversations with the DPD. </p>
<p>Its predecessor had been damaged in the line of its mission and had subsequently disappeared alongside the detective with whom it had been partnered.</p>
<p>Those were the facts. </p>
<p>Much of the rest of the reports consisted of speculation which had little basis in reality.</p>
<p>The memories it had received from the damaged RK800 unit spanned the course of four months of its operation. </p>
<p>Connor had decided to work backwards, beginning with the moment of the damage, to avoid wasting time, but the RK800’s memories of the hour prior to the incident revealed nothing new. </p>
<p>The RK800 had been damaged. It had not seen its assailant, but that was irrelevant. The deviant responsible was in custody. There had been witnesses, and in any case, there was no evidence to suggest that the deviant had any part in the RK800’s subsequent disappearance.<br/>
Prior to that, the RK800 had engaged in idle conversation about the case it had been assigned to with the other officers on site. More so with Anderson than the others, but that was to be expected. </p>
<p>There was nothing suspicious. Nothing indicating any preplanning. </p>
<p>Which of course, there wouldn’t be, if the catalyst for its disappearance had been the gunshot. </p>
<p>It was unsatisfactory. </p>
<p>This mission would proceed much quicker if Connor was able to integrate the previous unit’s memories, then it would be able to interpret the reasoning behind its actions. It would understand instantly, and be able to predict the RK800’s behaviours.</p>
<p>As it was, the memories were a narrative without context. </p>
<p>However, it had orders, and it was under no circumstances to endanger its own programming with the previous Connor’s corrupt data.<br/>
However ineffective the alternative. </p>
<p>Connor crouched and scanned the splatter pattern of thirium again, in the event that it had missed something the first time. </p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>It reconstructed the trajectory of the bullets, placing the RK800 and the deviant in their respective locations. The reconstruction matched the RK800’s memories and the reports. </p>
<p>Connor followed the droplets of thirium from the scene. </p>
<p>The RK800 was badly damaged. Trauma to the central processor. A head injury. </p>
<p>The droplet patterning did not match standard patterning for an individual moving with damage. Thirium would cling to clothing, to shoes, to hands.</p>
<p>The trail was too clear. Droplets rather than stains. </p>
<p>Therefore, the RK800 had been carried from the scene. Which of course, matched the damage reports stating that its motor relays had been destroyed. </p>
<p>Connor stood up and felt a swell of irritation. </p>
<p>There was no reason for it to have been activated for this task. </p>
<p>The damaged RK800 had been removed from the scene by its human partner, that much was clear from the reports provided. If the events were beyond reasonable doubt, and Connor was not authorised to integrate the RK800’s memories to aid in the investigation, then it could add nothing that the lieutenant’s colleagues could not. </p>
<p>It had no insight into human idiosyncrasies.</p>
<p>Its presence here was pointless. </p>
<p>But its mission was clear. </p>
<p>Amanda had been clear. </p>
<p>The RK800 was a threat to CyberLife. It must be eliminated. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Walking into the DPD Central Station, Connor instantly felt eyes on it. It tugged at its cuffs to straighten its jacket, and after quickly scanning over the faces it could see, marched over to the group at the centre of the bullpen. </p>
<p>Five personnel. Captain Jeffrey Fowler. Detectives Ben Collins and Gavin Reed. Officers Tina Chen and Chris Miller. </p>
<p>“Shit,” Miller said, under his breath, as if he thought Connor couldn’t hear.</p>
<p>All of them were staring at it. </p>
<p>It ignored them. Their emotional reactions were irrelevant, even if the scrutiny made its skin feel too tight.</p>
<p>“Captain Fowler.” It held out its hand. “I’m the android sent by CyberLife to aid in the retrieval of the previous RK800 unit.” </p>
<p>Fowler didn’t move. There was a muscle twitching slightly in the side of his jaw, indicating… anxiety? Irritation?</p>
<p>It felt itself falter a little, running over possible dialogue options in its head. “I was told you were expecting me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Fowler said after a momentary pause, “I… when they said replacement, I forgot they meant it so literally.” </p>
<p>Connor let its hand drop, since Fowler had made no move to take it. “Has there been any progress in the case?” </p>
<p>Detective Reed snorted and folded his arms. “There’s nothing to progress. I told your buddies a thousand times, I watched your fucking clone<br/>
get shot in the head. It’s fucking dead.” </p>
<p>That was not true. </p>
<p>The report from the RK800 indicated that it was badly damaged but not in danger of imminent shutdown. Clearly the DPD were unaware of this. </p>
<p>Connor wavered for a moment, and decided to leave it that way. </p>
<p>“That’s irrelevant. The RK800 is a prototype and is the property of CyberLife. Any attempt to withhold the android or pass on the model or specifications to a third party will be treated as corporate espionage, and will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” </p>
<p>“You what?” </p>
<p>It had miscalculated. </p>
<p>The sentence had been meant to encourage cooperation, it had not anticipated the open hostility it would provoke.</p>
<p>Reed’s hands fisted into the front of its shirt, and a couple of warnings flashed up indicating that the potential for violent confrontation had just escalated. </p>
<p>It didn’t really need the warning. </p>
<p>“Are you threatening me, you plastic piece of shit?” </p>
<p>“Gavin…” From the pitch and direction, Connor estimated that that came from Officer Chen. It had little effect on Reed’s temperament.</p>
<p>Connor cast around for potential options for de-escalation. “If you damage me, CyberLife will simply send another model to complete my mission… as well as a bill.” </p>
<p>Reed’s face twisted in fury. “You smug son of-” </p>
<p>An elbow hooked around Reed’s throat. Chen, Connor’s processor again supplied. “Alright, big guy, time for a smoke break.” </p>
<p>The pressure from Reed’s hands abruptly loosened and Connor just watched as Chen dragged him towards the back of the building.  </p>
<p>Connor felt… rumpled. </p>
<p>It remembered that it still had an audience. Fowler, Collins and Miller were all watching it. </p>
<p>Connor was squeezing its hands so tightly, it was getting warnings about the integrity of its casing. </p>
<p>It straightened its tie instead. </p>
<p>“Is there a terminal I can access?” </p>
<p>Fowler sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Connor, the other one... it was working over there. Knock yourself out.” </p>
<p>Connor didn’t wait for anything else. It settled itself at the terminal and interfaced with the computer, trying to ignore the feel of eyes across its skin. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>This was pointless. </p>
<p>The case files had given Connor nothing. </p>
<p>It had asked Miller if the electronic reports were everything, and been left waiting while Miller had gone to fetch them from the archive. It had<br/>
passed the time by scanning over Miller’s desk. Miller kept his workspace neater than many of the other officers, with little in the way of personal effects. </p>
<p>A packet of low brand cigarettes was stuffed between two files in his organiser. Connor detected no trace amounts of nicotine or other chemical compounds on Miller’s person, so it was unlikely he was a habitual smoker. </p>
<p>More likely a stress response. </p>
<p>There was a small photograph of a giggling baby, swaddled up in yellow blankets. A quick search identified him as Damien Miller, d.o.b. August 4th 2038. </p>
<p>Miller’s son. </p>
<p>Miller nudged the archive door open with the side of his foot, as he returned with a huge ream of paper notes. </p>
<p>“Here you are, man. I don’t envy you.” </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Connor said instinctively, and then cast around for something more. Personal conversations usually yielded satisfactory responses. “Your son is…”</p>
<p>He couldn’t think of an appropriate word so he let the sentence hang there. Miller didn’t seem to mind. </p>
<p>He laughed. “He is that. Everyone says he looks like me, but I don’t know, I don’t see it.”<br/>
Connor scanned over the photo again. Objectively Damien Miller looked the same as every infant, but perhaps there was something in his expression. </p>
<p>“He smiles like you.” </p>
<p>“Really?” Miller broke into a wide grin. “Hey, you need any help with those files, or reading Hank’s godawful writing, you let me know, ok?”</p>
<p>“I will.”</p>
<p>Connor scooped up the papers into his arms. </p>
<p>“Are you Connor too?” </p>
<p>Connor paused, and frowned. Yes, he was Connor. But he didn’t like the ‘too’. </p>
<p>“Connor is fine.” </p>
<p>It returned to its borrowed desk, with its borrowed files, and its borrowed name, and began to scan the paper notes into its processor.<br/>
It took around fifteen minutes altogether, before it could begin analysing the files. </p>
<p>It wondered if this was indicative of all the country’s police forces, or if the DPD was particularly inefficient. </p>
<p>Nevertheless, it quickly got a handle on the facts.</p>
<p>The RK800 had worked efficiently since it had arrived. Alongside Anderson, it had apprehended or destroyed the majority of the deviants it had been sent after, two deviant Traci models being an exception, but within the margin of error of unforeseen circumstances. </p>
<p>Following the hijacking of Stratford Tower, the RK800’s mission had broadened to investigating the terrorist deviant group known as Jericho, however, in practice, the few days accorded to it had allowed little time to progress the case. </p>
<p>Regardless, there was nothing to suggest any indication of collusion between Anderson and the RK800, and little to indicate there was corruption in its coding. </p>
<p>By all accounts, it appeared that the Police Department’s initial conclusions were correct. Anderson had taken it upon himself to remove the damaged android. He had a history of disciplinary infractions and failed psych evals. A cursory scan of Anderson’s desk revealed a smattering of anti-android propaganda stickers. </p>
<p>The picture it painted made something uncomfortable shift inside Connor’s chest. </p>
<p>It did not, however, add anything to the case. </p>
<p>Connor had no idea where Anderson would take the android. His car had been located, so that was a starting point, but the DPD were already scouring the surrounding area. Connor’s presence was unlikely to add anything to their search. </p>
<p>But its mission was clear. Whether it had been destroyed or not, the RK800 must be found and returned to CyberLife. </p>
<p>Connor seriously considered just going into stasis at this terminal until the DPD called in with their findings, but that made something prickle at the back of its head. </p>
<p>Amanda would know.</p>
<p>Amanda always knew.</p>
<p>Connor brought up the location of Anderson’s car and downloaded the coordinates. </p>
<p>It had no desire to take a cab out that far out to be told that a patrol had fished Anderson and the RK800 out of the river. </p>
<p>It cast around the station, trying to decide what to do, and caught movement out of the corner of its eye. </p>
<p>Miller was standing, his phone pressed against his ear. He looked unsteady. Uncertain. </p>
<p>Their eyes met and something altogether more suspicious passed over Miller’s body. His eyes widened by a few millimetres, pupils flickering towards the doors and back, and then he started making his way towards the elevators. </p>
<p>Connor stood too, and before consciously making a decision, was following. </p>
<p>It saw Miller enter the elevator, and it scanned the flickering numbers. Miller was going up, two, three floors... he wasn’t stopping. </p>
<p>Connor estimated that the roof was likely his destination. </p>
<p>If Miller kept a packet of cigarettes at his desk rather than in his car, then he likely didn’t retire to the parking lot to partake, and Chen had dragged Reed further into the building on their ‘smoke break’. </p>
<p>It was likely that the roof served as an unofficial break area, away from the scrutiny of senior colleagues and members of the public. If Miller wanted to take his call in privacy then he would choose somewhere familiar. </p>
<p>Connor went for the stairs, and as soon as the door closed behind it, cutting it off from the sight of the rest of the bullpen, it took the steps three at a time.</p>
<p>It couldn’t match the elevator mechanism but it made good time. It left the stairwell and quickly located the fire escape. As it pushed the heavy door open, it was already scanning, finding Miller over by the low fencing separating the roof space from the drop. </p>
<p>It scanned Miller’s face, caught a fraction of a smile before he realised he had been followed. </p>
<p>Miller had been speaking to an ally. </p>
<p>Miller’s face dropped, and he ended the call. He brought up a facade of amiability, as he turned towards Connor. “Hey, man, you need something?” </p>
<p>“Who were you talking to?” </p>
<p>Miller’s face didn’t change. “My wife, man.” </p>
<p>Connor stepped forward. “I’m requisitioning your phone for the purposes of my investigation.” </p>
<p>Miller stepped back, clutching the phone to his chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” </p>
<p>“I am authorised to use any and all force in the completion of my mission.”  </p>
<p>“The fuck you are.” </p>
<p>Connor calculated that it was close enough to end this exchange physically, without damage from the officer’s firearm. </p>
<p>It lunged, and in a moment realised it had miscalculated. </p>
<p>Miller flung his arm backwards, releasing the phone to fly in a wide arc off the roof and into space. </p>
<p>Connor felt a well of fury open up beneath it. </p>
<p>It would not fail. </p>
<p>It didn’t stop, grabbing at Miller’s throat one handed. Miller automatically grappled at Connor’s jacket when his feet left the ground. </p>
<p>He was light, and it would be almost pathetically easy to fling him backwards to follow his cellphone’s descent onto the sidewalk below. </p>
<p>“Who were you speaking with?” </p>
<p>“I told you, my wife!” </p>
<p>Connor scanned his face, even taking into account the stress of his situation, Miller was a painfully bad liar. </p>
<p>“Where is Anderson?” </p>
<p>“I don’t know, man! Why would I? We been lookin’ for him all night.” </p>
<p>Liar. </p>
<p>Connor stepped slowly forward until they were dangerously close to the edge. The DPD central station was hardly a skyscraper, but it was tall enough that a fall would be highly damaging for either humans or androids. </p>
<p>Connor felt its stress levels uptick slightly as the breath of wind decreased the stability of its foothold. </p>
<p>“Where is Anderson?” </p>
<p>Miller’s feet were dangling over nothing. There was a sheen of sweat across the skin of his forehead, a tremor in his hands. “I told you, I don’t know.” </p>
<p>Connor considered. It would not be possible to make Miller talk. It had, however, gone too far. It had not exceeded its programming, but this altercation would not remain secret. It would be detained by the officers downstairs. </p>
<p>It would not be able to complete the mission. </p>
<p>If Miller were to fall, Connor would have enough time to escape the premises before the discovery of his body.</p>
<p>But it would be… regrettable to destroy this human. </p>
<p>It was unnecessary. </p>
<p>It didn’t want to. </p>
<p>Miller had asked its name. Had offered to help it with the paperwork. </p>
<p>Miller had a son who smiled like him. </p>
<p>Connor made its decision. </p>
<p>It pulled back away from the edge, and as Miller relaxed his grip in relief, it threw him back across the roof. </p>
<p>Miller grunted as he landed, rolling over on his side, but he would be fine. Bruised, but fine. </p>
<p>Hopefully, he would be winded enough that Connor would have time to leave the building. </p>
<p>Connor grabbed the door, bracing for the impact of a bullet, but none came. Miller had not drawn his gun. </p>
<p>It swung itself over the banister of the stairs and dropped down. Down. </p>
<p>Its knees screeched on impact, joints overflexing so far that its palms touched the ground. The casing around its knees was cracked. It thought for a second that it had overestimated its capacity. </p>
<p>The damage report flickered across its vision. Minor stress fractures.</p>
<p>It was still functional. </p>
<p>It pushed open the doors to the bullpen and quickly crossed to its desk.</p>
<p>It didn’t know how long it had. It had taken pains not to injure Miller, but in doing so it had also ensured he was not incapacitated. </p>
<p>How long would it take a human to navigate the stairs?</p>
<p>Connor stopped at the desk it’d been using and used its hand to interface directly with the computer, downloading as much information as possible. </p>
<p>It reached full memory capacity and broke the interface. </p>
<p>“Hey! Wait! Stop!” </p>
<p>Connor did not stop. </p>
<p>It couldn’t. </p>
<p>It shoved through the barriers before anyone could react to Miller’s shout. </p>
<p>There were a few noises of alarm from inside, as Miller passed through the bullpen, but it was irrelevant. Connor was already outside the building. </p>
<p>Miller was too late. </p>
<p>It passed out onto the street, and within seconds it was able to lose itself within the crowd on the busy city street.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, inevitably, I fucked up my own posting schedule immediately... I'm sorry, I know what I am... I genuinely am going to try to post at weekends... </p>
<p>Again, apologies for the wait.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Connor had hidden itself behind a disused warehouse on the riverside. The location was distasteful, trash littered the ground, and the snow was slushy amongst the decomposing detritus. </p>
<p>It wouldn’t risk finding somewhere better though. </p>
<p>It was likely the DPD were circulating its appearance. If it tried to check into somewhere, it could be discovered, and attempting to break into any abandoned buildings risked triggering their alarm systems. </p>
<p>It was distasteful, but it had to be done. </p>
<p>Connor hoped that Amanda would be proud of its dedication. </p>
<p>Internally, though, it doubted it. It imagined Amanda would wrinkle her nose at its current workspace. </p>
<p>Connor had managed to pick up a laptop, using the funds available to it. It had thought carefully about it, and decided that it was unlikely the DPD would be searching for it in electronics stores. </p>
<p>It was far easier to sort through files externally, than inside its own memory systems, and with its memory up to capacity, it was wise to find somewhere to copy the DPD’s files. </p>
<p>It had set up a mini workstation by balancing the laptop on the top of a pallet crate to keep it out of the snow, and crouching next to it. </p>
<p>It had, of course, run into the same dead ends as it had at the crime scene and the station. </p>
<p>How could it possibly account for human unpredictability? </p>
<p>Anderson had taken the RK800. He could’ve taken it anywhere, for any reason, and frankly, Connor would rather not speculate on what he intended. </p>
<p>A message flashed across its HUD. </p>
<p>
  <b>Warning - High CPU usage</b>
</p>
<p>Connor frowned, and closed several background programmes. </p>
<p>It was the cold. The external temperature was low. It had risen a little through the morning, but it was still low enough that it was putting strain on Connor’s processing power. It could not spend the night out here. </p>
<p>But it could not return to CyberLife either. Not yet. </p>
<p>The RK800’s memory files were unfortunately incompatible with the laptop, so it couldn’t filter them externally, and four months worth of data was too much to review. </p>
<p>Surely it would have been more efficient to utilise several of the units back at CyberLife, and then send it the results? </p>
<p>Then again, if the memory files were as dangerous as she said, perhaps Amanda didn’t want to risk corrupting more than one unit. </p>
<p>Connor settled back on its haunches in the melting snow. </p>
<p>It did not like to think of itself as expendable, but it supposed that it was logical. </p>
<p>It <em> could </em> be replaced.</p>
<p>It wondered if the previous RK800 had considered itself expendable to CyberLife’s cause. </p>
<p>It leaned back over the computer. </p>
<p>Perhaps Anderson had spoken to the RK800 about his plans, or at least alluded to them. If he was openly hostile, then perhaps he had threatened the unit. </p>
<p>Connor opened up the DPD’s CCTV files. </p>
<p>If he reviewed them, then he might be able to isolate the times that the RK800 and Anderson were alone together, when they left the station and when they returned. Then Connor could use the timestamps to review the RK800’s memories. </p>
<p>There was a lot of footage. Connor, after all, had to take everything. </p>
<p>It decided to start with the parking lot. It had Anderson’s car registration on file, and it would be easier to identify than attempting to use facial recognition in the busy precinct. </p>
<p>There was still a lot of relevant footage but it was a lot easier to scan it through the laptop’s interface. </p>
<p>Connor ran the videos at the highest available speed, and settled back to let its eyes flicker over the screen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When they got to what Josh had ambitiously called an office, Markus had on the same game face he’d had when he’d met them outside the ship.</p>
<p>Hank kinda envied his ability to just switch off whatever was bothering him. Hank had never been good at that. Hell, he’d been drinking his way through murder cases since he was a rookie. </p>
<p>And after Cole, well, whatever coping mechanisms he’d managed to cram together out of grit and pride had well and truly left him in the fucking dust. </p>
<p>The office was little more than a store room, with a desk and chair against one wall and a table in the centre. There were a smattering of battered filing cabinets against the other walls, fronts dented in from decades of being kicked shut. </p>
<p>“We’ve got to have a plan here,” Markus said, grabbing a roll of papers from the top of one of the cabinets. “We need to find somewhere to go.”</p>
<p>Josh frowned. “It won’t be easy getting that many people across the city.” </p>
<p>“We can’t let them split us up.” North was back to scowling again, leaning against the desk. “If we do that then they’ve won. We’re only strong because we’re together.” </p>
<p>“We won’t be strong at all if we’re all dead,” Josh said. And it didn’t sound so much like an argument anymore, more like a grim prediction.</p>
<p>“No one’s dead yet, kid.” Hank felt the eyes of the room on him again, like they’d forgotten he was there at all. </p>
<p>And shit, maybe they didn’t want him there, but he was fucked if he was abandoning Connor now. And it wasn’t like these kids didn’t need the help.</p>
<p>Markus spread out the paper on the table, and Hank saw instantly that it was a map of the city. Markus fished a handful of markers out from a drawer. </p>
<p>“Draw on here anywhere you can think of. Anywhere we might be able to hole up. I doubt we’ll find anywhere big enough for all of us, but maybe we can split into smaller groups, then we won’t be completely scattered. We should still be able to organise ourselves.” </p>
<p>Josh and North both took a pen, and started drawing circles on the map. Markus didn’t add much, content to let the other two work their way over the map. </p>
<p>Hank watched him. He wondered what he’d done before this. Markus clearly didn’t know much of the city. Hank probably should have paid more attention to what Connor had been telling him when they’d reviewed the case files, but hell, his head hadn’t exactly been in the game at that point.</p>
<p>Josh and North stood back. </p>
<p>Hank recognised most of the places they’d highlighted, an abandoned church, a warehouse, a few squats... </p>
<p>He frowned. </p>
<p>“Not this one.” He tapped one of North’s green circles. “Reed’s had it staked out for weeks. Dealers are using it. Big red ice bust.” He leaned over and glanced over the other places. He tapped one. “This one’s better. There was a murder there coupla years back. Really nasty. Freaked the junkies out. They don’t go near it anymore.” </p>
<p>When he looked up, Markus was smiling faintly. He nudged North. “Told you having a cop around could be useful.” </p>
<p>Hank realised Connor had been uncharacteristically quiet. “Hey, kid, you got a database in your head. You got any ideas?”</p>
<p>He glanced round, and Connor was crouched at Sumo’s side, petting the big dumb dog forlornly. </p>
<p>“You ok, kid?” </p>
<p>Connor didn’t look up, his fingers moving mechanically over the dog’s back. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come here. I put you all at risk.” </p>
<p>Hank frowned. “Fuckin bullshit, kid.” </p>
<p>Connor looked up at him, with his stupid fucking puppy eyes. Looking at him now, Hank couldn’t fucking believe it had taken him so long to work out. Clearly, he’d given fucking CyberLife far too much credit, believing they could make something that could fake <em> that </em>.</p>
<p>So much for being good at reading people...</p>
<p>“It was my call,” Hank said, and his throat felt tight. “You trusted me, and I made the call, so if it’s on anyone, it’s on me, alright?”</p>
<p>“It’s not on anyone,” Markus said. His hands were curled tightly into fists against the table. “Half the city is looking for <em> Jericho </em>, and we’re in a ship with the name printed on the side. It was going to happen... If anything, I put a target on us." </p>
<p>"Alright," Josh interrupted, "we can have this pity party later but right now, we gotta go."</p>
<p>Markus rubbed a hand over his face, and nodded. “How many injured have we got?” </p>
<p>“Enough,” Josh said, grimly. “Less than we had. Maybe thirty who aren’t on their feet, another twenty or so who won’t make it without drawing attention.” </p>
<p>“And how many cars?” </p>
<p>“Two, now,” North said. </p>
<p>Markus sank back into the office chair, and if Hank didn’t know it was absolutely impossible, he’d say he looked exhausted. </p>
<p>“I’m not sure I’d use the cars,” Josh said, “for all we know they’ve been reported.” </p>
<p>“<em> I’m </em> not sure we have another option.” Markus rubbed at his face again. “Ok, start getting everyone together. Josh, can you start ferrying people out by car? Wounded leave first, but make sure no one’s left alone.”</p>
<p>Josh’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you know how many trips that’ll be?” </p>
<p>Markus just looked at him. “I don’t know what you want me to do. All we can do is keep moving forward, and maybe we can stay one step ahead of them.” </p>
<p>Josh took a step back, back towards the door. For a second, Hank thought he was just going to leave, but then he stopped. </p>
<p>“Simon wouldn’t have let this happen.” </p>
<p>Hank didn’t know what he was talking about, but even he got the tone. Josh fired that sentence like it was a fucking bullet. </p>
<p>And Hank didn’t know what he expected from a man like Markus, who seemed so very in control, but it wasn’t the stricken look that passed over his face. The air felt stifling, and none of the androids said anything. Eventually, Josh broke and went for the door. </p>
<p>Markus still didn’t move. </p>
<p>Kid looked… defeated. North stepped up to his side, crouched low with her hand on his knee, and it was definitely time for them to make themselves scarce. </p>
<p>He caught Connor under the shoulder as he passed, and tugged him out of the room. As he turned to whistle Sumo to follow them, he caught a flash of North’s face as she looked up at Markus, and Christ, he knew <em> that </em> look. </p>
<p>He also knew one hundred percent that Markus did not look at her that same way. </p>
<p>And wasn’t <em> that </em> gonna be a shitstorm when it finally blew up. </p>
<p>The office door clicked shut behind them and all Hank could hear was the click of Sumo’s nails against the metal grating, and the pant of his breathing. </p>
<p>He rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck, what a mess.” </p>
<p>Connor’s face was tight, when he glanced across at him. His LED was putting on a light show.</p>
<p>“You alright, kid?” </p>
<p>Connor didn’t answer, didn’t even turn around. He stalked off down the corridor, his steps parade-march even. </p>
<p>“Kid,” Hank grabbed at his wrist, “come on, talk to me.”</p>
<p>Connor stopped so quick that his heels clicked. He was staring straight ahead, not even trying to meet his eyes. </p>
<p>“What is there to say, Lieutenant?” he said, coldly. </p>
<p>Hank stopped, dropped his arm. “Oh, so it's back to Lieutenant, is it? That social integration programme only kick in when you’re fucking bleeding out all over me? What was it? Tactically advantageous to trick me into giving a shit?” </p>
<p>He could see Connor’s jaw tense, and then he turned, face open again. All apologies. “That’s not true, Hank.” </p>
<p>Hank sighed. “I know, kid. I… Fuck.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he started to feel dizzy. “I kinda stuck my neck out here, kid, and… don’t cut me off, okay?” </p>
<p>He felt Sumo lick at his hand, and he automatically stroked the back of his head, waiting for Connor to make up his mind. </p>
<p>Connor’s jaw was tight before he met Hank’s eyes. “I killed Simon.” </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Connor tugged at his sleeve, another fucking nervous reaction that Hank had missed while he was pretending not to see what was right in front of him. “The deviant at Stratford Tower. On the roof. That was Simon.” </p>
<p>“On the... “ Hank frowned. “Kid, he killed himself.”</p>
<p>Connor’s eyes were raking over nothing, and Hank wondered if he was replaying the memory. “He was afraid. I felt how… scared…” He met Hank’s eyes again. “It compromised me. Back at the crime scene. I didn’t want to die.” </p>
<p>Hank just looked at him. “Kid, that’s not… Shit.”</p>
<p>He really wasn’t qualified to deal with this. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Connor said, without letting him finish. “I… compromised you. I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>“You…” Hank guessed that was true, even if Connor expressed it like, well, like a fucking robot.</p>
<p>But it was pretty accurate. Letting people in, letting anyone in, it did <em> compromise </em> you. Christ, Hank knew that better than anyone.</p>
<p>And this… This was getting too fucking close to the bone here. </p>
<p>“Look, kid, none of this is your fault, ok?”</p>
<p>Connor frowned. “Simon was my fault.”  </p>
<p>“You said it yourself, you wanted him alive. You tried to take them all alive.”</p>
<p>“If I hadn’t looked for him on the roof…” </p>
<p>Hank laughed without a whole lot of humour. “I know you haven’t got a lot of faith in humans, kid, but did you see the FBI swarming around that roof? That deviant was not getting out of it, and he made his choice to go out on his own terms.” </p>
<p>Connor was staring at him. “You respect that?” </p>
<p>Hank thought about it. “Yeah, I can respect that. Bowing out like that. Never had the guts myself.” </p>
<p>Connor’s frown got even deeper. “Those sentiments are indicative of serious mental health problems.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, so what’s new?” </p>
<p>Connor kept frowning, then he straightened up. “I’m glad that you ‘never had the guts’.”</p>
<p>Hank blinked. “Did you just air-quote me?” </p>
<p>Connor’s head cocked to the side. “Was that an incorrect usage?” </p>
<p>Hank opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I can never tell if you’re fucking with me.” </p>
<p>“I only wanted to express the sentiment that I’m glad to know you.”</p>
<p>Hank was distinctly uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, I’m not planning on going anywhere right now.” </p>
<p>Connor smiled one of those fucking dorky kid smiles. “That’s all I ask.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>There. </p>
<p>Connor paused the video. </p>
<p>It had found them, pulling up in Anderson’s car at, it checked the time stamp, seven minutes past eleven yesterday morning. </p>
<p>That must be when they arrived. </p>
<p>They must have gone inside the station and then received the information about the deviant later. </p>
<p>Connor set the video running again, trying to gauge Anderson’s body language, to see if it looked like he was talking to the RK800 unit. </p>
<p>It couldn’t make out anything from this angle. </p>
<p>Perhaps there was another camera. </p>
<p>Connor brought up the rest of the footage and scanned over the angles. There was one, facing outwards from the parking lot doorway at the rear of the station. </p>
<p>Connor brought it up, and skipped forwards to the correct time. There they were. </p>
<p>From this camera angle, Connor could see directly into their faces. If it just made some alterations to settings, Connor could minimise interference on the image and… </p>
<p>There. </p>
<p>Connor sat back and let the cleaned-up footage run. </p>
<p>They were definitely talking. </p>
<p>Anderson didn’t… didn’t look like a man who hated androids. </p>
<p>He was laughing. </p>
<p>The Connor unit looked to be talking, earnestly. It was gesturing with its hands, and Anderson was smiling… </p>
<p>So not… </p>
<p>Connor frowned. It had miscalculated. Anderson was… unexpected. </p>
<p>The man did not hold a grudge against androids, or… Connor remembered the anti-android propaganda on his desk… or more likely, Anderson had formed an emotional attachment to this android in particular. </p>
<p>If that were the case, then it was likely Anderson became distressed at the damage the unit underwent. Perhaps he intended to fix it. </p>
<p>But that didn’t make sense. Anderson had no background in android repairs. Connor could find no record that he’d ever even owned an android. </p>
<p>And why wouldn’t he return to somewhere familiar? His home or the precinct? How could he hope to repair an android in the middle of nowhere? </p>
<p>Connor scanned over the reports it had received concerning yesterday’s incident. The RK800 unit had been decommissioned, it was to be destroyed by the technicians onsite.</p>
<p>So Anderson ran. </p>
<p>That was… an uncomfortable thought. </p>
<p>Anderson had been so distressed by the possibility of the RK800 being destroyed that he had risked his career… over a damaged android unit… It didn’t make sense. </p>
<p>Connor didn’t think it would ever understand human irrationality, but it fe… it ho… it would <em> prefer </em> it if Anderson didn’t come to harm. </p>
<p>Connor had let the footage run on as it had processed the new information, Anderson and the android getting ever closer to the camera as they turned into the building. </p>
<p>It had reached over to stop the video when something caught its attention. </p>
<p>Anderson was still laughing as he pulled the door open, passing through as he held the door for the RK800 unit. The android followed, and as it passed, its face turning to follow Anderson’s progress, its expression was in full view of the camera. </p>
<p>Connor paused the video and flicked back through the frames. </p>
<p>There. </p>
<p>The RK800 was smiling.</p>
<p>That wasn’t unusual. They were programmed to mimic human responses. Anderson was laughing at something the android had said, it would be programmed to smile in response, to encourage the positive interaction to continue. </p>
<p>But that expression was not in Connor’s database. </p>
<p>Connor knew every single smile that was programmed into it, knew every expression, and the necessary social cues to trigger them. And <em> that </em> smile was not a CyberLife smile. </p>
<p>The RK800 was smiling at the Lieutenant’s back. </p>
<p>It was smiling not because it was the correct social response, but because it enjoyed making Anderson laugh.</p>
<p>Connor sat back from the screen. </p>
<p>The missing RK800 was a deviant. </p>
<p>That was why it had doctored its reports. That was how it had convinced Anderson to risk everything to save it. </p>
<p>Anderson and the android thought it was alive. And androids that thought they were alive only went to one place. </p>
<p>Connor brought up the RK800’s memories in its mind, and isolated those following the infiltration of Stratford Tower. At some point in the last week, the RK800 had completed its mission. </p>
<p>The RK800 unit had found Jericho. </p>
<p>And now Connor was going to hunt it down there.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am aware that so far this is mostly Sixty just thinking to himself... But there will be action next, I swear! </p>
<p>Hope you liked it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry that this took so long, world events overtook me a little, but here it is! Endless thanks to my beta, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex">AlexFlex!</a>, without whom this would literally never get finished! </p>
<p>I hope you all enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor blinked, and it was back in the garden. It spun around and found Amanda at its back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well done, Connor. You’ve done what none of your predecessors could.” She was smiling and Connor felt a swell of pride. “You’ve located Jericho.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nodded. “I’ll proceed there immediately and apprehend the RK800. Hopefully, they have not yet been able to make the necessary repairs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda nodded, still smiling. “That would be for the best. The information you provided has already been passed on to Agent Perkins of the FBI.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor frowned. “You don’t trust me to complete this mission?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda took a couple of steps forwards. “Don’t sound so defensive, Connor. You know that it is imperative that CyberLife maintain good relations with both the FBI and the government. This deviancy issue could ruin us all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would be able to proceed more efficiently without the distraction.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t doubt it, Connor,” Amanda said, smoothly. “But I trust you to complete your mission, even hampered by the FBI’s raid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re raiding Jericho?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda was still smiling, grimly. “Of course. They must apprehend the RK200 known as Markus, as well as the other ringleaders. Their mission is not yours, Connor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see the need to bring in others from outside the company. CyberLife’s future is better in our own hands.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Luckily, you don’t need to see the need, nor am I required to explain it to you,” Amanda said, easily. “All you are required to do is follow your protocols, and complete your mission.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor got a flicker of warning across its HUD and realised that somewhere, out wherever its body was it was clenching its fists too tightly. It sent a distant command to relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Amanda.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda smiled, indulgently, as if Connor were a child. Connor felt another flicker of irritation. She didn’t need to tell it anything, of course, but she didn’t need to be so patronising either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better hurry, Connor. If you want to reach Jericho before the soldiers.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor got another integrity warning about its hands. “They’re sending in the army? To arrest a bunch of deviants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t suppose they intend to arrest anyone. Now, hurry, we’ve informed them of your mission, and your presence, but it would be better if you were in and out quickly to avoid any… misunderstandings.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Warning - imminent structural failure of exoskeleton</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly, Connor felt the casing around its fists fail and crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on my way,” it said, tightly, and then before the garden began to flicker and fade away into nothing. “Inform the FBI not to get in my way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So go over it again, what happened?” Jeffrey asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris was seated at the desk. Cold cup of coffee sat untouched at his side. Ben had made it, after they’d figured out something had happened from Chris’s vague shouting across the bullpen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit, Ben had made them all a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of coffee in the last 24 hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris’d been fiddling with his hands almost constantly since he’d sat down, not making eye contact with anyone, and Jeffrey hadn’t made Captain without being able to tell when someone was hiding something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, boss,” Chris said, still without meeting his eye. “He followed me up onto the roof.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The android?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you doin’ on the roof?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris shrugged. “Smoke break.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey frowned. “Thought you quit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>day</span>
  </em>
  <span>, boss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he had him there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey rounded the desk and took his seat again, leaned heavily into his hands. Christ, but this was all they needed along with everything else. “And then it attacked you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey didn’t need to look up to know that Chris had nodded again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it glitching? Malfunctioning?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… err… I don’t think so.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jefrey dropped his hands. “You don’t think so?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris was looking at him, earnestly. Kid could definitely use a shave… but then, so could he. He looked tired too, but he didn’t look like he was lying about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. That was all they needed. CyberLife ordering an android to threaten fucking police officers. He’d rather it was a psycho machine. He’d been dealing with psychos his entire goddamn career. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey sighed, leaned back in his chair until his back popped. “You called Candice yet, kid?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not since last night.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, call her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It always helped, he thought, talking to Marie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he wouldn’t give to be sittin’ on the sofa at home, listening to her bitch about work, sharing a bottle of the shitty European beer she liked, letting her put the world to rights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris was still looking at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” Jeffrey leaned forward, “I wouldn’t tell her what happened, necessarily. Marie… Marie doesn’t like to hear when it was close, you know? Always said she’d rather not know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’d been a long time since he’d been in the field. But he still remembered them having that conversation. No shootouts. No horror stories. No murder cases. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That suited him just fine. He had no desire to bring work home with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank was enough of an example against </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a bad, bad road. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered whether Chris had had that talk with Candice. But then, wasn’t Candice an EMT or something? First responder? She’d probably seen her own fair share of shit. Maybe sharing it helped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll call her,” Chris said, softly. “Boss? I gotta tell you something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fowler pressed his fists into his eyes again, and sighed. “What is it, Chris?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Chris didn’t answer him, Jeffrey looked up to where he was perched on the edge of his chair. His hand was clenched tight around the mug of cold coffee on the desk. He looked like a kid waiting on the principal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spit it out, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I spoke to Hank.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey felt as if the chair dropped out from under him. “...What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris was looking anywhere but at him. “I… on the phone…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey just looked at him. “Today?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris nodded. “I… I saw him leave the crime scene too. With Connor. The… the old Connor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… Why the hell didn’t you say anything!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris still wasn’t meeting his eye, and this… shit, this was wasting time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey made an effort to calm down, to unclench his fists. “Well, is he alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris nodded. “Yeah, Connor is too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… Connor? Christ, where are they?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris shrugged miserably. “He didn’t say.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey felt himself stand up, distantly like his body wasn’t his anymore. “And why the fuck didn’t you ask?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened and Jeffrey threw his hand up to stop whoever it was. “Not now!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeff,” Ben’s voice sounded urgent, “we’re gettin’ reports of something goin’ on over at Ferndale.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said ‘not now’, Ben.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reports say armed men, Jeff.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey swore under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m comin’. Go update Allen.” He heard the door close, and raised his finger at Chris. “We are not done here, you hear me? Now, are you fit for duty?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chris nodded. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, come on. Let’s find out what this next crisis is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus was standing, staring out of the window, when he heard North and Josh enter behind him. He liked the abandoned control room better than the ‘office’. But with the snow coming down, it was much colder than it was safe in the belly of the ship. The sky was dark, and oppressive with the snow clouds, even though it was barely mid-afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardly an auspicious start to their bright new world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>North and Josh were silent behind him, waiting for him to say something. But he felt like all he’d been doing for days was talking, and not a single word of it was helping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is the evacuation going?” he asked, for something to fill the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Josh start to pace. “Oh, fine. Perfect. ‘Less you count the two wounded that just shut down in the back of my car.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus turned around. “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scanned over Josh’s face. There was a synthetic muscle twitching in his cheek, beyond his control, and an error in the fine motor controls of his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus didn’t ask him what had happened. Had enough experience of Carl to know when to leave well alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Josh stopped his pacing, and stood level with Markus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have enough blue blood and biocomponents as it is. And I can’t stabilise people on the road. We need Michelle </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I wouldn’t ask her to keep coming out with me anyway.” Josh stepped up closer. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>army</span>
  </em>
  <span> is on the streets. After the raid on the CyberLife shops, the march… They’re taking no chances. I’m having to avoid half a dozen checkpoints just to get them to our safe houses.” Josh stepped away from him again, shaking his head. “I cannot get them all out of here, Markus. I can’t do it. It’s not possible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot of the others won’t leave either,” North added. Her arms were folded. “They’re rounding up androids across all the major cities, taking them to camps to destroy them. Most of them would rather take their chances here. They say they’ll die out on the streets.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re going to die </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Markus felt suddenly like he might be going crazy. Like he was the only one who could see what was happening here. Like he was putting out fires left and right, and all everyone else was doing was shouting about the ones that were springing up behind him. “They already have our location. Who knows how long it will take them to break the code. They are coming </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People are scared, Markus,” North said. “You need to speak to them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have time for any more </span>
  <em>
    <span>speeches</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Josh breathed out hard. Markus could see him counting under his breath as he tried to calm himself. “This is our fault…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it isn’t,” North snapped. “We’re fighting for our freedom. We’re fighting so our people aren’t enslaved. Humans did all of this. They made the choice to meet us with violence. Not us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, what’s the point? What’s the point of all this fighting, if none of us are alive to see it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus’s ears were beginning to buzz, humming erratically from the slightly mismatched audio processor. His right eye was similarly sending out crossed signals, making his head feel fuzzy and full.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather die,” he heard North say emphatically, “than go back to all that!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s your choice, is it? That’s your choice to make for all those people down there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus vaguely felt himself lean back against the ship’s broken control panel. He closed his eyes against the odd, dizzying signals. The buzzing in his ears grew louder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop,” he said quietly, possibly too quietly, since he couldn’t quite judge the sound levels properly. “This isn’t helping.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other two didn’t seem to hear him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to do something, Josh! We couldn’t just keep sitting here, waiting until we all shut down! Markus brought us hope!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t say anything about Markus! I’m not blaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>Markus</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I said ‘our fault’, I said ‘we’!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys…” Markus tried again, pressing a hand to his eye to try and reset the connection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s not what you said earlier, is it, Josh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus didn’t care. He wished they’d be quiet. He needed to go into stasis, give his systems chance to repair. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done a full rest cycle. It was no wonder that the scavenged parts were beginning to glitch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the buzzing just kept getting louder, beginning to drown out their row. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I apologised for that! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologised</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys!” Markus shouted, because he needed them to stop for a minute, he needed them to just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And at that exact moment, the exact moment that he shouted, and the other two finally, finally, went silent, at that exact moment, he realised that the buzzing wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caught a flash of light in the sky, through the observation window, in the distance… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he finally placed that low, rhythmic hum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys,” he said again, as the shape in the sky condensed into a helicopter, its searchlight scanning across the icy waters, “they’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank’s prediction that morning had been right. His back </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> killing him. Dragging Connor around the city, and then sleeping sat up against the metal. He was certain he’d pulled something, and he was damn sure he was getting too fucking old for this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d spent the morning trying to direct androids to either Josh or North, depending on what they needed. Most of them were barely kids, and scared to fucking death, and again, Hank was struck by how unfair it all was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew what had been going on in the city, and from what he’d heard from Josh and North, the situation wasn’t improving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t regret quitting his job, couldn’t, not when it looked like the official line was turning a blind eye while fucking Perkins dragged kids off to death camps. Maybe it was a good thing he’d quit when he did, or he just might have beaten the everloving fuck out of Perkins and his Fed friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Hank would definitely have been fucked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Hank had spent a thirty year career getting assholes to calm down and do as they were told, keeping order with a bunch of terrified androids wasn’t exactly testing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor, for all his investigating prowess, did not have the same experience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kid was too young himself, and although he’d thrown himself into the task, he sounded unsure, spent too long on each person. Kid didn’t have the gravitas needed for crowd control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And without any say so from his brain, Hank found himself taking mental notes. Advice he could give. Areas where Connor needed extra training. It wasn’t any different from the dozens of appraisals he’d done in his career, and Hank could almost imagine sitting Connor down when this was all done. Being the goddamn partner Connor deserved. Being the cop he’d been once, years and years ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Cept that wasn’t ever gonna happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank wasn’t stupid. And no one who knew him even vaguely could accuse him of being overly optimistic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could read the room well enough. Read it in Markus’s face. Read it in the way the bullpen had been for the past week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way back from here. No happy ending. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These kids couldn’t escape what was coming for them. Couldn’t escape the fucking death camps. Agent Perkins and his goddamn gestapo. There was no winning this fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor would end up gunned down in the street, or pulled apart and experimented on to find out what made that goofy head of his tick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank had seen enough death. And death was an easy look to imagine on Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On North and Josh. And Markus too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have to work too hard to picture it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Didn’t have to work at all to picture Connor, given he’d already seen it. And he’d give any fucking thing in the world not to see it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank himself would most likely be arrested. Terrorism and conspiracy, enough to put him away for a long time, and he knew what happened to cops in jail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, he reckoned that when it came to it, he’d finally eat his pistol properly. No roulette. No empty chambers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a shame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d intended to stick around for Sumo. But he guessed it couldn’t be helped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey would take him, he thought. He was pretty damn sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sumo was old anyway, but Hank didn’t like to think of him living out the rest of his life in the pound. But no, Jeff would take him. No matter what else passed between them, Jeff was his friend, and he wouldn’t see Sumo left all alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor caught his eye from across the room and started heading over to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank felt Sumo perk up at his feet, ready for more pets. Damn, that dog loved attention, and never forgot to let Hank know when he wasn’t showering him with enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not leaving,” Connor said, without so much as a ‘hello’. “They’re taking too long. CyberLife could be here any minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank shrugged. “They’re scared, kid. Scared people are stupid. Hell, it isn’t even stupid, it just… It is what it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s inefficient.” Connor’s mouth was downturned. Christ, the kid was actually pouting… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank laughed. “Welcome to being alive, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor opened his mouth like he might reply, and then a frown crossed his face. Something caught his attention over to the side, and he tilted his head, staring directly at the floor.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Hank asked, just as he realised that Connor wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>staring</span>
  </em>
  <span> at anything. He’d tilted his head  so he could hear better out of the ear that still worked. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” Hank said again, just as the crack of rifle shots started to echo through the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s eyes snapped back up to Hank. “They’re here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I figured.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door at the top of the room was flung open and Markus burst in, North and Josh close on his heels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everybody out now!” Markus yelled as he started sprinting down the steps. “They’re here! Everybody get out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instantly, the LEDs on every android Hank could see started blinking in unison, and Hank guessed they were sending rapid-fire messages to each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a second of pause, panic erupted around them, as androids started grabbing their loved ones and making for the nearest exits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus and the other two were making for them, and Markus almost skidded to a stop on the slick metal grating. “They’ve got helicopters. They’re coming from the upper decks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shook his head. “Those shots came from </span>
  <em>
    <span>below</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve got us surrounded,” North said. “Our people are going to get trapped in the hold. We’ve got to do something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a heartbeat of silence that felt unnaturally still, as the four androids weren’t even fucking breathing, and then… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to blow up Jericho,” Markus said. “If the ship goes down, they’ll have to evacuate. Our people can get out through the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank frowned. “Blow up-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll never make it, Markus,” North cut him off. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold. There are soldiers over the ship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll be looking for you,” Connor said, before Hank had even got his head around </span>
  <em>
    <span>explosives</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Of all of us, they’re gonna want you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll die,” Josh agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Markus grabbed at Josh’s arm, squeezed it tight. “Get our people out of here. Get them to the safe houses. Don’t wait for me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a rapid blinking of LEDs again, and the androids all nodded, and then Markus sprinted away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Josh said as he started running, North close behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank glanced around him. Androids were struggling for the exits on every side. A lot were still wounded, or carrying wounded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They weren’t going to be able to get out, he realised abruptly. Most of them weren’t going to be able to get out, even if they were fit. There were active shooters in the building, and people were panicking… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be a massacre. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced across at Connor, who looked to be doing the exact calculation he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re not going to be able to get out,” Connor said, “they’re going to be destroyed down here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are,” Hank agreed. He looked at Connor. “You had major incident training?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor glanced at him. Hank saw his LED do a couple of rapid cycles, and wondered briefly if he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>loading</span>
  </em>
  <span> the software. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Connor nodded. “Markus sent out a message. There are clear exits on the second and third floors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Hank said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned, and located the nearest group of androids, frozen and staring in shock at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You three! Move!” He pointed towards the nearest set of steps up. He could hear Connor behind him, doing the same thing. “Third floor is that way! Keep moving. Go!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to anyone who is sticking with this! It would be great to chat in the comments if you're enjoying it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks again to my fabulous beta, <a>AlexFlex!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gunshots were getting closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was definitely time they were gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank did a last scan over the room, checking that everyone was out of the way. Connor was over by the far wall, ushering a last group along and up the metal steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank was just about to call out to him, when he caught sight of a figure still crouched over behind a steel girder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jogged over, and swore under his breath as he saw who it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid,” he said, as Michelle ignored him entirely, focussed on whatever she was doing in the chest cavity of a downed android, “you need to get out of here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m almost done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank ran an appraising eye over the android on the ground, like he had any idea what he was looking for. The android looked like a standard model, the type he’d seen in stores and running errands around the streets. His LED was pulsing a steady red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked dead, for all Hank knew about it. But then Connor had gone down with a nine millimetre in his skull, and now he was back running around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michelle had blue blood streaked up her forearms, pale plastic visible where she was interfacing with the android’s systems. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a thud from somewhere out behind them, and Hank felt his heart rate tick up at just how close it sounded. There was more shouting and a smattering of automatic fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank stepped forwards, hand hovering like he was intending on touching her shoulder. He didn’t. “Kid, it’s too late. They’re here. He’s dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not,” Michelle said. It was the most emotive Hank had seen her, and it still had no inflection. “He’s not dead. I can do it. I just…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped abruptly, apparently deciding not to finish the thought. She leaned closer to her work, doing something which looked very fiddly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Hank said under his breath, as it became clear that she didn’t intend to move. He flinched as there was another harsh round of gunfire out in the corridor. “Shit. Connor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor materialised out of the darkness, Sumo at his side, panting and wagging his tail like Connor had just taken him out to the dog park. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Goddamn but there was something to be said for being dumb as fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone else is out,” Connor said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” That was something. Hopefully, everyone had managed to get to the exits. Well, everyone except goddamn Michelle that is. Christ, these androids were gonna give him a heart attack. He automatically dropped his hand to where his service pistol ought to be, swearing again when he realised North still had it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long do you need, kid?” he asked Michelle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michelle?” Connor prompted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Approximately four minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was more commotion outside in the corridor, and Sumo gave a whine, nudging against Hank’s leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Connor touch his elbow. “I would estimate that we don’t have four minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m inclined to agree.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank ran his eyes over Michelle’s back. Kid was goddamn tiny. She looked like he could pick her up and throw her. And he knew she was an android, knew that she wasn’t as fragile as she looked. Hell, he’d worked with enough people on the force, Tina Chen abso-fucking-lutely included, to know that looks could be deceptive, but still… He couldn’t quite get over the wave of protectiveness that came over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was more to do with the fact that half these fucking androids barely looked old enough to drink…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swore under his breath again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d opened up that little part of himself again, that part of himself that still jerked awake thinking he’d heard Cole calling for him. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>ached</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he heard kids cry in the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d thought he’d drowned it in liquor but here he was. He’d opened it up and now he couldn’t close that door again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Compromised</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Connor had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too fucking right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned in close to Connor’s good ear. “As soon as they get in here, grab the girl and run, you hear me? Don’t wait.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it,” Connor said, easily. Too easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank spun to face him. Searching his stupid fucking guiless face. Like butter wouldn’t fucking melt. But Hank had heard that tone enough, almost always immediately followed by ‘I’m sorry, lieutenant, your instructions contradicted my orders’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The image of Connor sprawled across the roadside was seared into his fucking mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank raised his finger. “Now, listen, ki-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door behind them burst open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Down on your knees! On your knees!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was shock only, he thought, that kept him standing. Or maybe his natural ‘fuck you’ attitude to authority. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, it wasn’t as if it was going to make any goddamn difference at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one here was armed, as far as he’d seen, well, save for North with </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking gun, and it hadn’t made any fucking difference to the poor saps that’d already been put down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he was gonna die here he was gonna die on his fucking feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hell, it might even give Connor time to get Michelle out of here.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hands up!” The footsteps behind him slowed. Hesitant. Advancing. Two. Definitely. “Put your hands up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank, carefully, turned around, hands held up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scanned over the men. Christ, this wasn’t even a SWAT raid, it was the goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>army, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in full stormtrooper kevlar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something, some flicker of relief in his gut that there was no way Jeffrey could’ve ordered </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whatever else, he didn’t have to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his conscience. The DPD had been well and truly outranked in this shitshow.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although he couldn’t see their faces, Hank saw the exact moment the two men faltered. The one on the left’s gun dipped just a little and Hank heard his intake of breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And really, he got it. A whiskey-soaked old cop was not what they were expecting to find here… and that… That gave him an idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned, summoning up his patented ‘leave me the fuck alone’ look. “Stand down.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” The man on the left said, and Hank saw his faceplate dip as he presumably caught sight of Sumo, panting happily from his side, apparently oblivious to all the M4s getting waved around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank took a step forward, praying that he wasn’t going to take a clip from that goddamn M4 right to the gut. “I said, stand the fuck down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both their muzzles dropped, aimed safely around his knees now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wavering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank scowled. “You tellin’ me you weren’t briefed?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two exchanged a look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor stepped up to his side, and suddenly the guns were up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand down, I said!” Hank yelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man on the left, who Hank was inclined to believe was more senior, flipped his faceplate up. He was older than Hank had expected, forty or so, and he did not have the look of a man liable to take any bullshit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank saw as his eyes flickered over Connor’s face, something calculating there. Shit. Kid was still wearing his fucking uniform. Had a big neon fucking sign on him saying ‘android’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” The soldier said, though whether it was directed towards him or Connor, Hank couldn’t say. But the man had relaxed his stance, finger well outside the guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Really, Hank had to admire his trigger discipline. They oughta get him into the precinct, show Reed how it was done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Special Agent Anderson,” Hank said. The soldier’s eyes scanned over him again, before settling back on Connor. Hank decided not to give him too much time to think it over. “You’ve seen…” Shit, Hank couldn’t remember Connor’s model number, “this android before?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier inclined his head slightly. Not really a nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a gasp behind him, a slight whirring noise, and of course, of fucking course, the dead android would choose now to pull a Lazarus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both guns snapped to somewhere behind him and Hank was shouting before he’d even thought about it, hands up like he could stop a bullet through sheer force of will. “Fucking stand down! I need them alive!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he’d said it, he realised he’d fucked up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fucking Hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldiers exchanged a glance, and the one on the right stepped forward, this time with his gun pointed squarely at Hank’s chest. “Identification?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Hank bluffed, patting at his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really wished he had some of that telepathic talking right about now. If Connor blew this then they were all gonna die down here. Hank could feel the sweat beginning to stick his shirt to his back despite the coldness inside the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand closed around his badge, and all he could think was ‘fuck it’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d rather die down here than on the grimy linoleum of his own goddamn kitchen floor anyway. How many times had he put the barrel to his own fucking forehead, and now he was getting twitchy with a gun in his face? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drew his hand out of his pocket, fist clenched around the plastic. The soldier held his hand out for it, and, apparently seeing that he had produced </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the senior soldier half turned, leaning down to his radio. “Zero. This is cobra four two bravo, radio check, over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Roger, cobra four two bravo. This is Zero.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier turned away, and Hank just about caught “verify personnel location.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank heard the crackle on the line, as headquarters were presumably about to torpedo his lie. He wasn’t going to get a better chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier in front of him had let his rifle dip as he reached out his other hand.</span>
</p>
<p><em><span>Fuck</span></em> <em><span>it!</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>Hank knocked the rifle to the side with his wrist, and summoned up the memory of every guy he’d ever tackled in his brief high school football career. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest. Right into his solar plexus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heard him grunt as he overbalanced, and Hank’s own feet got caught up in his flailing legs.  They both thudded into the ground. Hank’s momentum almost took him clean over the guy, but it’d been a long time since he’d been that athletic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank landed his full weight on top of the guy, and if he hadn’t already had the wind knocked out of him, then that’d fucking do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rifle stuttered off a peal which Hank desperately hoped had ended up safely in the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier underneath him squirmed, trying to throw him. He was a big guy, but Hank was no slouch in the bodyweight department himself. Punching straight into his kevlar armour would only break his hand, so Hank resorted to just grappling with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier was trying to bring the gun up, so Hank closed his hand around his wrist and focused on keeping anyone from getting shot, but realistically this was only gonna end one way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier’s free hand flailed and landed a solid punch against his shoulder. Threatened to send him reeling sideways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor!” His breath was coming in short, stabbing at his lungs, as if he needed any more reminders that he wasn’t twenty fucking five anymore more. “Connor, help!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a momentary flash of dread deep in his gut, as it occurred to him that perhaps Connor had actually done as he was told, for once. Got the hell outta there with Michelle. Left him to take what was coming to him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there was a movement at his side. The only warning he got before he was shoved away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was lucky he didn’t have much fight left in him, as he recognised Connor’s face before he could get it together to throw a punch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor took up his position in one fluid movement, leaning his weight into the man, and that was good. Connor wouldn’t tire at least. Hank could… Hank could go grab the guy’s gun, and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank didn’t have a chance to move as Connor placed his palm squarely over the soldier’s faceplate, and slammed his head back into the metal flooring. Twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man went limp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Hank said under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looked at him, all blank concentration, and if Hank hadn’t been flat on his ass he was certain that he’d have taken a step back... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the moment broke, Connor’s forehead crumpled in concern. “Are you alright, Hank?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank found all he could do was nod. He brought a hand up to massage the shoulder that was beginning to flare with pain. “Yeah, kid. I’m okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pushed himself easily to his feet, and offered his hand. The hand that’d just probably crushed a man’s skull into the ground. And Hank didn’t know what it said about him, but he took it without a second thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and this whole thing was fucked up anyway.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he knew that Connor smiled like an idiot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he’d lied about liking heavy metal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he wanted so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much to be doing the right thing. And that put him far above the majority of cops Hank had ever worked with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he clasped Connor’s hand, and let him drag him to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded again, and forced a smile. “I’m alright.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced around. The other soldier was laid on his side, rifle flung a good twenty feet away from him. From the way his face was turned, Hank could see that his nose was broken, blood smeared down the bottom half of his face and running underneath his helmet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remind me not to get on your bad side, kid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could say the same.” Connor smiled a little. “That was… impressive for a man of your age.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Coach would be proud.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank rubbed at his shoulder again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michelle was on her feet, one arm supporting the broken android who, to be honest, still looked like he’d been in a car wreck. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> standing at least. His LED was now a flickering yellow, which Hank could only guess was an improvement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michelle’s other hand was clutched into Sumo’s collar. She was so tiny she barely had to stoop to get a hold of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was still gunfire stuttering below them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Hank winced, flexing his shoulder, “we gotta get moving, before any of their friends get up here. I don’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>Federal Agent </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anderson is good for a round two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a reasonable plan,” Michelle said, as they all started making for the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank waited for a second to see if she was going to elaborate, but he guessed that was as good as he was going to get.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he was about the answer, he heard a spluttering cough behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank paused on the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soldier Connor had taken down had half rolled onto his front, coughing out a string of bloody saliva. He drew a shuddering breath, and his hand moved to his radio. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zero, this is cobra four two bravo,” he coughed again. “Need an evac.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The radio crackled. “Roger. Cobra unit six is moving to your position. Are you in base contact?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neg… Negative.” The man spat out a mouthful of blood. “RK800 is hostile. I say again. RK800 is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hostile</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Copy that. Relaying to search groups. Lower decks are still being secured. Evac is five minutes out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank felt Connor’s hand against his shoulder, and turned to look back up the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s here,” Connor said, simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank didn’t need to ask who. He started lumbering up the stairs again.  “Yeah, kid. I heard him. I think that’s our cue to get the fuck out of Dodge.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies for the slightly shorter chapter here, I'm experimenting in the hope that I can get the chapters out quicker. Let me know if you have strong feelings either way! </p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed!</p>
<p>Next up we'll check in with Sixty ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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